The Hogwarts Takeover
by BraverLeonheart
Summary: Harry discovers the immediate consequences of his victory over Voldemort, more than a decade after the battle.


**A/N:** Hello and welcome! I do apologise to anyone who has ever read my stories before, I'm sorry for disappearing, but time and ideas have both been in short supply recently. Rest assured, I am back, at least for this story. Also, previous readers will notice, this is completely different for me, as it is a comedy (hopefully). I really hope you enjoy it.

My thanks go out to Leif/seeker's_destiny over at SIYE for the beta read of this chapter, and for protecting me from many angry Scots when I refuse to capitalise the G in McGonagall.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any rights to Harry Potter.

* * *

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was always quiet during the summer months. Occasionally, the ghosts would chat to each other in the hallways and corridors, but even this became a rarity in the summer months, with no students to gossip about. After all, living in the same place as someone for hundreds of years, when most topics had been exhausted in the first six months, meant that love-struck teenagers was often the most interesting thing to a ghost. And that was saying something.

Even the busiest August days, like this one for example, were mostly silent. An extra dozen people in a huge castle could hardly be called a riot, but the flurry of activity as lessons were planned and rooms were tidied was at least more than the previous weeks.

One such person was used to the silence over the years. Admittedly, when Harry Potter had joined the teaching staff at Hogwarts, coming into the school during the summer holidays had been a very strange and eerie experience indeed. It had taken only half an hour before the echo of his own footsteps reverberating around the classroom had driven him to the brink of insanity. It was at that moment that he had flooed his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, and they'd broken the silence by making love on the desk to forget about it.

Unfortunately, footsteps aren't the only thing that echoes.

Poor Professor Flitwick.

It had been after Christmas that Professor Potter felt comfortable enough to sit near the miniature teacher at meals again.

Now an 8 year veteran of teaching however, Harry welcomed the silence. The calm before the storm he called it. There hadn't needed to be a repeat of that incident for many years.

And when there was, they remembered silencing charms.

Professor Potter had originally begun his adult life as Auror Potter. He took just two years to get through Auror training, pushed hard by the trainers in order to rebuild their forces after the war. But despite the speed in which he was pushed through his training, it was still not enough. By the time he became a full fledged Auror, everything had been done.

_Everything!_

In the few months that Harry had remained in the Auror force, his best arrest was of Seamus Finnegan, his fellow Gryffindor classmate, who had decided to get completely rat-arsed one night, bought a ticket to watch Puddlemere United play the Wimbourne Wasps in a friendly game, and proceeded to streak across the pitch wearing just an invisible hat from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which only vanished the wearer's head.

Seamus had been locked up in a ministry holding cell for one night, and released the next morning once sober, minus the hat, but with some clothes.

The following week he was dating Kimberly Atkins, one of Puddlemere's Chasers.

No, in the two years following the war, Kingsley Shacklebolt had done a fantastic job in mobilizing the Auror troops, and had rounded up every single Death Eater they could possibly find. Leaving Harry, brand new Auror desperate to prove his worth, to be photographed covering Seamus' dignity with a Wimbourne Wasps hat.

Harry found he wouldn't have minded too much, but he was there to support Puddlemere, who were hot favourites to play the Harpies in that years final, a rivalry that had him sleeping on the couch a number of times. Marrying a Harpy wasn't the best situation for a Puddle fan.

It was then that McGonagall had flooed him with the offer to get out of the Auror corps and put his training to good use. She offered him the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, after the previous teacher, Professor Harshing, bit off more than he could chew when he took on three hinkypunks at once. Its unknown exactly what happened to him, but he now has a ward in St. Mungos to himself, and has to be monitored closely, or he starts seeing lanterns that lead him into trouble, once nearly out of a tenth floor window, except he couldn't work the latch.

Hinkypunks aren't even that dangerous.

Harry's lesson planning was interrupted by footsteps down the corridor outside his office. Harry began cursing the fact that he didn't make his door impurtable so these annoying sounds couldn't disturb his reading, when the footsteps ceased and there was a knock at the door.

He flicked his wand lazily and the door swung open, admitting the headmistress into the room. Taking one look at her told Harry he was in trouble.

Minerva McGonagall was an intimidating sight. Over 80 years old, she had refined the look of "don't mess me about", a phrase that had to be coined once Harry's children had been born, as the other phrase, shortened handily to DFA, had been much too rude.

DFA McGonagall was terrifying to children, and as such, she commanded total respect by anyone who came into contact with her. Once you were a teacher however, McGonagall gave way to a much softer side. The sight was unnerving the first time you witnessed it. Harry had nearly needed a lie down when he accepted the teaching position and McGonagall had promptly hugged him and kissed his cheek.

The other shocking part was that McGonagall, the woman who once made Grawp cry with just a look, had a sense of humour.

She loved playing pranks. Admittedly, she wasn't very imaginative with her pranks, they mostly just involved her bursting out from behind tapestries as a cat and promptly transforming, giving the appearance that she had grown out of the floor. But she accompanied it with a look that rumour has it, made Severus Snape wet himself when he joined the staff team. Were he alive, he'd probably deny that though.

Whenever Minerva pulled these pranks and got the reaction she wanted, her face broke into this feral grin that surely only developed after spending a little too much time as a cat. It was unnerving.

She wore The Grin now.

Harry gulped, before plastering his own smile on his face, which didn't seem to want to stick. It was like it kept slipping, akin to wallpaper that wasn't quite pasted right. He tried to keep his voice level as he said "Minerva, I hope you are well on this fine day, what can I do for you today?"

The funny thing about The Grin is that it completely renders the part of the brain that gives you personality utterly useless, and replaces it with a 1980s used car salesman.

"Harry, it's good to see you. I was hoping you might be able to look over this list and tell me if you think anything is wrong with it?"

She held in her hand a roll of parchment, which she brandished unnecessarily. It reminded Harry of Lockhart brandishing a new quill. She passed him the parchment and Harry unfurled it.

He looked at the first item on the list. Then the second. Then the third.

Then he looked at McGonagall and gulped.

The Grin got wider.

* * *

There was one thing that Harry had to admit about his wife. Well, actually, there were several, such as her terrible taste in Quidditch team, the fact that her five brothers could still scare the life out of him, the fact that she could still scare the life out of him, and she couldn't cook for toffee.

But the main thing that Harry had to admit about Ginny Potter was that she looked damn sexy in her Quidditch training uniform.

Along with this however, came the fact that every other man in the world knew this too. Harry found that this didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have, especially after Ginny had sat him down and made him read the things that Witch Weekly had said about him and certain parts of the anatomy.

It had become some sort of game between them. Every so often, Witch Weekly and Playwizard would release "awards" for who they believed was the fittest, hottest, sexiest and most endowed (Harry hoped these were estimates, though he never complained about the figures) of all of the celebrities out there. Harry and Ginny had pretty much dominated the awards since Voldemort's defeat. Both had won awards for sexiest male or female, best arse, sexiest person in uniform and "best – we'll leave it to your imagination" (simply labelled "best breasts" in Playwizard, where subtlety was never a strong suit) every single year running.

However, Ginny was winning their game of who was sexiest as Harry had also won "luckiest man in the world" award every year for simply being married to Ginny. She on the other hand, had lost out in 2002 to a seventh year prefect who had managed to sneak into Professor Potter's private quarters while he'd been showering, and taken it upon herself to take a peek, promptly selling her story to every magazine she could think of. She won the award before it could be proven that the talk of her sharing a shower with the professor was fabricated, and by that point, the editors couldn't be bothered to retract the award.

So when Harry looked up at the floo to see his wife step out wearing her dark green training uniform, still flushed and windswept, it was only natural that almost every thought was swept completely out of his head except one.

'_I wonder if Molly would be willing to keep James for an extra half hour?'_

Failing to notice she had company, Ginny tossed her training bag into the corner, and promptly grabbed the corners of her training shirt, pulling that over her head and throwing it to join the bag. Harry suddenly found that the notion of having anything to say to this goddess was thrown out of the window.

Finally, she turned and noticed him, and her shocked expression was quickly turned into one of pure innocence.

"You're home early sweetheart, I thought you had a lot of planning to do today?" She asked. Harry found he had to swallow slightly before he could talk.

"I decided to give it a miss. And I must say I'm glad I did." She smirked, and casually played with her hair.

'_Merlin, she'll be the death of me'_ Harry thought to himself, shaking his head.

"Why did you decide to miss it? Surely you couldn't have missed me that much, it was only half a day"

Suddenly, the thought of why he had come home slammed back into Harry's mind, and he instantly gulped.

The note McGonagall had given him had been on his mind all day. So much so that his attempts at any lessons plans had simply failed. When he looked at one of his lists to find he'd planned the same lesson for the first and seventh years, he'd decided to give it up as a bad job and come home. He was incredibly happy that he could spend some quality time with his wife, without their son walking into the bedroom and asking about something truly inspired, but completely uninteresting to a couple in the middle of some passionate lovemaking, like why Bowtruckles were made of wood when stone doesn't set on fire as easy. However, the prospect of telling her what was on his mind was terrifying.

He also knew he wouldn't be getting any sex once he told her.

He attempted to school his features, but it was too late. Ginny had developed the annoying habit of knowing exactly when something was wrong and wheedling it out of him without any effort on her part at all. While Harry was recovering from his efforts during the war, the skill was invaluable to the couple, and made them as strong as they were today. When faced with something as embarrassing as this, Harry found the ability infuriating.

By the time Harry had put a confident look on his face and thought of a witty remark about how nothing could possibly wrong, Ginny had settled herself into his lap, sideways unfortunately, and wrapped her arms around his head and neck, cradling it softly, a position she'd taken too many times before. Currently, with her in only a bra, the position caused another, albeit temporary, bout of amnesia.

"What's happened sweetie? Has Filius been talking about your first summer again? I know he likes to tease you about that, but sometimes he does say the worst things."

Flitwick did indeed love to bring up the incident of Harry's first day, despite his mortification originally when he'd told the couple he could hear all of their exploits. He could do an amazing impression of Ginny that even Harry couldn't deny was one hundred percent accurate. And Ginny's pleasurable moans were not something Harry wanted to hear from a dwarf with a bad comb-over.

Harry sighed, and wriggled under Ginny so that he could reach into his pocket. He pulled out the note McGonagall had given him earlier, while saying "No, not Filius. McGonagall" and handed the note to his wife.

One more thing Harry had to admit was that Ginny and McGonagall were incredibly alike.

Not that McGonagall had ever won Playwizard's Sexiest Female award, at least, not to Harry's knowledge.

Although she had featured quite highly on their list of "50 witches you didn't know you had a crush on" in 1998. Apparently after the war, sexual tension was high and standards were low.

No, Ginny had perfected The Grin also. Although it wasn't really a feral grin like McGonagall, but a smirk that let you know that whatever was running through her head was both utterly humiliating for you, and brilliantly hilarious for her.

"Please say this is what I think it is." She said, not bothering to hide the laughter in her voice. Harry nodded, and Ginny simply burst into mad giggles. Harry buried his face deeper into her cleavage, and considered not coming out again, a thought he'd had numerous times over the years.

"I told you so!" Ginny shouted as she ruffled his hair, still laughing raucously. "And you didn't believe me! I remember your exact words. "Nobody is stupid enough to do that Gin", you said. Well guess what, Mr Potter." She quickly looked at the note again, "24 people at least are stupid enough to do that. You're lucky it's not more"

Harry groaned loudly as he surfaced from his comfortable position. "I know I did, and I should have known better. Clearly the wizarding population are idiots"

He looked at his wife and knew two things for certain. Firstly, he was never going to hear the end of this. Secondly, all ideas of making love to his wife were null and void.

* * *

Harry Potter had made a habit of missing sorting ceremonies during his time at school. Each year, the entire school population gathers to witness the first years hear which house they will be spending the rest of their lives being compared to. As a professor, Harry had become rather alienated with the whole concept. While he agreed that promoting a little inter-house rivalry for Quidditch and house cups was all in the good of the school, he hated the concept that, due to him being a brave Gryffindor, he should be the first one to try his best friend Hermione Granger's latest attempt at cooking. Conveniently, the rest of the gathering often forgot that they too were supposed to be courageous lions. And this would stick with you for the next century of your life. "Came from Ravenclaw did you? You must be smart then. Could you possibly translate these Weird Sisters lyrics into runes so I can have them tattooed on my ankle?"

So far, in his adult life, he'd not missed a single sorting ceremony. The thought had crossed his mind the first year he was made professor, with Flitwick's cold shoulder and the eyes of the Great Hall on him all evening being the two contributing factors. However, that time didn't compare with this.

Now, he was more terrified than he was walking into a dragon enclosure for the Triwizard Tournament.

It didn't help that Headmistress McGonagall kept sneaking looks down the table at him. Under normal circumstances, this would be worrying at best, as it normally meant some plot was being concocted that would bring the Grin to her face.

However, the looks down the table were much more horrifying when Harry knew what was in store for him this particular day.

The Great Hall steadily filled with chattering voices, excited calls between house tables from friends who hadn't managed to catch up on the train ride. Latest gossip on Quidditch team transfers during the pre-season, who's dating who, and discussions about latest robe fashions, and what style looked best, with varying degrees of honesty. As the hall filled up, Harry could feel his heart sinking in his chest. Finally, with every student in the hall, the doors closed ominously.

Had there always been this many students in Hogwarts? Couldn't there, just for this one day, be a large bout of flu that suddenly sweeps through the hall and cause the ceremony to be postponed indefinitely?

Apparently not, as no sooner had this thought passed through Harry's brain did the doors of the Great Hall swing open once more, admitting Professor Flitwick, followed by around fifty terrified looking eleven year olds, all towering over the diddy man. They made their way to the front of the room, and Flitwick ordered them into lines. Even the sight of fifty children taking orders from a man several inches shorter than them couldn't make Harry laugh this year, although it had every year previous.

And then, it began.

"Harry Atkins"

A boy with sandy hair stepped out from the line and went to put on the sorting hat, but Professor Potter didn't pay attention to this. Instead, he sank down in his seat a little, and cast his glance along the table, catching his boss's eye. She was looking straight at him, the Grin not yet fully formed, but well on its way.

As Atkins made his way to the Hufflepuff table, the next name was called.

"Harry Boot"

When he had heard that his friend Terry Boot in Auror Corps had had a son straight out of Hogwarts, Harry had found himself pleased for the man, who had always been polite throughout Hogwarts. This had changed somewhat when Boot had named his son Harry. The two hadn't really spoken for a week after that.

"Harriet Bree"

There wasn't apparently going to be a reprieve with the girls either, as Harriet stepped out of line and headed for the stool. A good few inches taller than most of the other first years, she looked more like a third year than anything. If she had of been, her name wouldn't be causing her defence professor to glare daggers at her.

"Harold Buxton"

Another tall kid walked towards the stool and tripped, landing heavily on his knees. He got up sheepishly and rubbed himself down before getting to the sorting hat, and immediately going to Hufflepuff. Harry found himself subtly enjoying the child's misfortune, however petty that was.

The sorting continued. Every now and again there would be a brief gap where Harry could try to regain some form of composure. By the seventh variation of "Harry", there was lots of chatter around the Great Hall. He had no doubt that it was at his expense. The only real reprieve that Harry got was when Ronald and Hermione Dunn were both sorted to Gryffindor. Harry would have great fun ruining Ron's sex life by telling him twins had been named after him and his wife.

"Harold Large"

A chubby young boy walked forward, and put the hat on, the only thing stopping it from sliding down and covering his entire head was a rather large, purple coloured nose.

As the list continued, Harry found his gaze automatically wandering towards his Headmistress once more. Again, she was looking directly at him, which made him wonder if she was paying more attention to his discomfort than the sorting of her students, and the Grin was slapped across her face for all to see.

"Harry Melling"

A rather porky lad that reminded Harry of his cousin Dudley wandered up to the stool and sat down. The hat took a very long time with him, before tentatively placing him in Gryffindor.

"Harry Potter"

Despite having read the list a number of times, Harry gave a double take at this. It was the one that really confused him, so much so that he'd done research into the child's family. Apparently, almost immediately after the war with Voldemort had finished, a witch, completely enamoured with Harry, had gone out of her way to look through a phone book for men with the Potter surname. Nobody really knew what happened (probably least of all the unsuspecting muggle Potter), but one shotgun wedding, a couple of strong doses of love potion and nine months later, Harry James Potter was born.

The thought was terrifying.

Unfortunately for Mrs. Potter, her plan hadn't really worked, as the young lad had turned out to be blond and rather athletic, as far as eleven year olds go. A far cry from the scrawny, raven-haired kid who had turned up 18 years previous.

"Harry Styles"

For an eleven year old boy, Styles oozed confidence. He had a swagger about him that suggested one day he expected to have thousands of girls screaming his name. However, with his unruly mess of brown hair that looked like you'd need to shear it rather than cut it, Harry thought this was rather unlikely. But then, he never thought he'd win sexiest wizard alive eleven times. As soon as the hat went on the young boy's head, it screamed "Slytherin", and the boy swaggered off.

"Harry Weasley"

The defence professor groaned. After Ginny had voiced her opinion about how many children would be named Harry to her entire family, George had taken it upon himself to make this come true. He promptly challenged Angelina to a game of Quidditch, a placed the bet which gave him the right to pick Harry as their first born child's name. Too headstrong to back down from a challenge, and probably a little bit too tipsy to be thinking about going on a broom anyway, Angelina accepted, and lost spectacularly. As a celebration, Harry Weasley was conceived.

The only saving grace from George's badly named offspring, was that it would be the last one. He glanced over at the Headmistress, who still didn't seem to have taken her eyes off him the entire time, so see her with the smug look on her face that said that definitely, this cat had got the cream.

If Harry had been honest, the fact that nearly half of the year were named some variation of his name should make life rather easy. After all, in a regular class, you would need to remember each individual name, with maybe a couple of repeats. With this first year, he could be pretty accurate if he made a random stab in the dark with Harry for any male in the class. However, he may have to simply leave any homework assignments at the front of the class for students to collect from now on, as he could be reasonably certain at least 4 "Harrys" in the class will simply sign their first name at the top of the sheet, and give no indication of their surname.

Harry ignored the headmistress' speech entirely before the food appeared, and started loading his plate on autopilot as he tried to control the embarrassment that was still lingering on his reddened face. Just when he thought that he had regained some idea of control, Flitwick returned from taking the sorting hat back to a side chamber, and jumped into the seat next to him.

"So, Professor Harry Potter" the man squeaked as he loaded his plate with peas, "Did you notice anything unusual about tonight's sorting?" He asked, not bothering to hide the smile on his face.

Harry schooled his features, but not quick enough to stop the blush from returning full force to his face. He calmly swallowed his mouthful, which suddenly felt rather dry, and delicately replied "No Filius, I don't think I did."

If Harry's answer was supposed to placate the small man next to him, it didn't work, as Flitwick simply looked contemplative. "Yes, very unusual. And very repetitive I might add. Why, I don't think I've heard the name Harry repeated that often since a few weeks befo-"

"Yes, well, there did seem to be rather a lot of one name. Are you sure your reading glasses are charmed correctly Professor?" Harry interrupted quickly before his colleague could get into full imitation mode. The last thing he needed right now was his wife's screams echoing around a Great Hall filled with children who's attention were already too focussed on himself for his liking.

Professor Flitwick is another member of staff that changes completely in the jump from being a student to a teacher. However, it is in a less endearing way that McGonagall. As a student, Flitwick was the epitome of patient, able to work with you for hours on a simple levitation charm if you need to. However, when you become a teacher, this becomes more of a hindrance, and you start to think of his patience as more _persistence_.

"Yes, they have never failed me yet, as you well know. No, the interesting thing as well is how many of these students are born in February. I couldn't imagine why this would be, can you?"

"I think we all know that May was a very busy month Filius," came the voice of McGonagall, whose cat hearing obviously carried over into her human form. She must have been waiting for an opportunity to use this line, as she'd have never thought of it on the spot.

Harry chose to ignore the comment, and shovelled some more mash potato into his mouth. However, he couldn't block out the Charms Professor's response, "Quite Minerva, I think it's safe to say the world was at it like rabbits, don't you think?"

If the attention wasn't on the Defence Professor before this, it certain was after he spat his mash potato over the staff table. To hide, he put his head down, narrowly avoiding smashing his face into his dinner.

Flitwick and McGonagall just smiled over him, their work complete.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading, and I hoped you enjoyed my attempt at humour. Please, review if you have the time, and let me know how I can improve my style should I ever try again.


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